Betrothed
by Heather F.C
Summary: Abbie tells a lie about Ichabod Crane and has to live with the consequences...


The words leave her mouth before she can think on them. She sees the eyes looking at her growing wider, hears snickering coming from somewhere in the room. Then it hits her, exactly what she just said but it is too late and there are already actions being taken.

"Lieutenant Mills, you know this is against our rules, right? You know we can't use our resources to accommodate someone just because they are dating you."

She tries to think of something snarky to say but her mind is empty. She sees Crane in the other room through the windows.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I'll take care of it immediately." she says, and excuses herself. She walks to the room Crane is in, wordlessly motions him to stand and follow her to her car.

"What is wrong, Ms. Mills? You look worried." he asks as they drive.

"Worried doesn't even cover it." she replies, without even looking at him. "You are going to have to move in with me."

"I was perfectly fine at the establishment you had arranged for me." he comments immediately and she doesn't expect him to do anything less. "Your instructions on those 'post-its' were quite useful."

"Yeah, but I will no longer be able to cover for your motel."

"I thought it was the department covering." he asks. He had been in the motel for only a couple of days and he was being sent away.

"It was because they thought you were a suspect in the case." She groans. "I just couldn't tell them that you rose back from the dead after 250 years because you are connected Death."

"It's the truth, Lieutenant Mills, you still refuse to believe it." He goes back to his preaching tone. "I am connected to him, you saw things."

"Things I cannot explain and understand, yes which makes it even harder to explain it to my colleagues." she takes a deep breath. "I just can't write into a police report that a headless horseman, Death, with a capital d, just killed a bunch of people. I had to be realistic."

"Why not? That is the reality." Crane raises his voice.

"Crane, you are a logical man. Would you believe any authority going on the news, saying that the recent killings in town are the result of supernatural beings?"

She parks the car in the motel's lot and helps Crane unlock the door. She has a bag for the few pieces of toiletries he owns to take them to her place. She has no idea how the two of them are supposed to live in her tiny apartment, but she has no choice.

"When it is the truth, I would."

Abbie sighs. She thinks that it will be a long day until Crane stops whining and just accepts the circumstances. She helps him pick the few articles around, goes to the front desk to check him out and arrives to her car, only to find him already sitting inside.

"Ms. Mills, is it customary in this century for an unmarried woman to host a male guest in her house?"

"It is called hospitality." Abbie says, her tone dipped in sarcasm. "You are technically homeless now. Unless you want to go back to the asylum, or the cave you woke up in."

"I'd rather not go back to the asylum, thank you very much." he responds, content. "Why is the department deporting me from the establishment?"

"Because I don't want to go to the asylum myself."

Crane is silent for a few minutes, but from the way he is constantly moving in his seat, Abbie is sure he is trying to make a comment.

"What happened?" he finally asks.

"I had to come up with a lie in order not to be institutionalized." she simply answers.

"An officer of the law lying to authorities? Is that common?" Now he is the one who is sarcastic.

"It is not something I am proud of, but I had to cover both of our asses." she replies. "I told them that I lied about you when they first took you under custody."

"And what did you say?"

"I said you are a method actor." she bites her lip to stop herself from snickering. It really isn't one of her proudest lies, but something was needed to be done.

"Could you kindly enlighten me as to what that means? I am familiar with the term 'actor' but I am afraid I do not correlate it with a method since acting is a discipline, a method itself."

"It's a type of actor who takes his acting job really seriously. Like that Daniel Day Lewis guy, you know, from that Lincoln movie."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" He is being rhetorical, at least she hopes, so she does not say a thing. "You told them I was acting?" he asks.

"I had to come up with a reasonable explanation for both of our behaviors, yes. I said before, I am not proud." She looks at him from the corner of her eyes and sees a look that seems like he is really angry with how funny the situation is. That is exactly how she feels. "I told them that you are getting ready to play a revolutionary war soldier and that you are just taking it so seriously that you are basically being your character."

"And is that why they deported me?"

"Yes. And the fact that I told them that we are, as you call, betrothed."

"Miss Mills." he exclaims.

"I gave this whole fool-proof background that we met when I was down in DC to test for the FBI and started dating then you got this acting job and I decided to stay here after what happened with Corbin and then you missed me so much that you came up here to change my mind. It was such a performance, I swear I saw tears in some of the ladies' eyes."

"Miss Mills, you are aware that you just lied to your own authorities. You acted."

"I needed to make the story believable. I simply told everyone that I was in shock after Corbin's death and couldn't tell the truth that we know each other. I said you were so deep in your role that you couldn't tell the truth, either."

Crane does not speak for the rest of the road.

She leads him to her top story apartment, the fifth floor of her building and is breathless because he refuses to use the elevator. She is afraid that he won't fit through the door, but he does and follows her through to her living room, which is technically her bedroom and kitchen as well. Knowing that she was going to leave the city for the FBI, she was not keen on spending money on a larger place and the size of the studio was more than enough for her. And being the second witness to the end of the world was not reflected in her salary increase so she had a limited budget, especially now that she is responsible for herself and Ichabod Crane, or as she likes to call, displaced-in-time-man-child. She does not have many personal things in the apartment except from the cushions she made herself, but it is home.

She looks at Crane looking around in amazement. There is a large queen-size bed on one side, the chest of drawers is on the opposite side with the TV on top, her bookcase next to it. Right next to the bed is the couch, which is technically under the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen from the rest.

"So, this is it. We passed the bathroom and the closet."

"It is cozy." he says and Abbie is not sure if he is impressed or disappointed. Sure, it is smaller than what he was used to in his short time at the motel. "I was born in a house much smaller in size than this, and there were six of us."

Abbie grins. "There are fresh towels behind the door in the bathroom. Make yourself home."

And home he makes himself. He takes a shower successfully and comments on how easy it is to use afterwards when he walks into the room with his hair wet. Abbie is boiling water in a pot to make some pasta, which is the easiest and the only thing she can make. He goes through her bookcase and comments on a few books and decides to read one after she declines his offers to help.

After dinner, Abbie lets him wash the dishes as she takes a shower herself. She is fond of how a man as stubborn as Crane easily accepts their new arrangement. She was expecting bigger arguments, it never happens.

"I'll take the couch." she says as she emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas. She usually sleeps in a tank top and boy shorts, but is more than willing to change her habits now that she has a roommate.

"Miss Mills, I simply cannot let you leave the comfort of your bed. I am a soldier, I have slept on worse places than a couch." The way he says couch makes her grin. "I am beyond grateful for your hospitality, I cannot let you sleep on the couch."

"Suit yourself." She gives up arguing and gets under the covers. She needs the comfort of her bed after a day of making a fool of herself at the station by saying she was dating Crane.

Watching Crane struggle with and on the couch is all the entertainment she needs. The couch itself is not that large enough for someone her size and for Crane, who is well a foot taller than her, it is many sizes too small. In the darkness, she watches as he tries to lie straight and hit his feet on the armrest. He then tries to put his feet on the armrest, then the blankets falls short and does not cover them. He turns and turns to find a comfortable position and drops his pillow on the floor.

"Crane, just let me sleep there. You are too tall for that couch." Abbie says through the darkness.

"Miss Mills, I am fine, thank you again for your kind offer."

Abbie nods and continues to watch another scene of Ichabod Crane versus the cheap IKEA couch unfold. This time his one arms falls and hits the ground and he groans.

"Ichabod." she whispers, using his first name for probably the first time ever. "This bed is huge and I am only using one side." she pats on the empty side of the bed, closer to him.

"Miss Mills, I simply cannot."

"Stop being stubborn and just do it." she snaps. Like a scolded child, Crane immediately jumps from the couch and lies on the bed, taking his blanket and pillow with him.

"Good night, Miss Mills. And thank you again."

"You are welcome. We will get an air mattress tomorrow. Good night." she says and turns her back to him and falls asleep in a few minutes.


End file.
